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_Twilight Animal Series_

WHITE TAIL THE DEER’S ADVENTURES

By

GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH

_Author of “Bumper the White Rabbit,” “Bumper the White Rabbit in the Woods,” “Bumper the White Rabbit and His Foes,” “Bumper the White Rabbit and His Friends,” “Bobby Gray Squirrel” “Bobby Gray Squirrel’s Adventures,” Etc._

_Colored Illustrations by EDWIN J. PRETTIE_

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY CHICAGO PHILADELPHIA TORONTO

TWILIGHT ANIMAL SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

FROM 4 TO 10 YEARS OF AGE

By GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH

LIST OF TITLES

1 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT 2 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT IN THE WOODS 3 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FOES 4 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FRIENDS 5 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL 6 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL’S ADVENTURES 7 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR 8 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR’S ADVENTURES 9 WHITE TAIL THE DEER 10 WHITE TAIL THE DEER’S ADVENTURES 11 WASHER, THE RACCOON

(Other titles in preparation)

Issued in uniform style with this volume PRICE 65 CENTS EACH, Postpaid

EACH VOLUME CONTAINS COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS

Copyright 1922 by THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY

Copyright MCMXVII by George E. Walsh

INTRODUCTION TO THE TWILIGHT ANIMAL STORIES

BY THE AUTHOR

All little boys and girls who love animals should become acquainted with Bumper the white rabbit, with Bobby Gray Squirrel, with Buster the bear, and with White Tail the deer, for they are all a jolly lot, brave and fearless in danger, and so lovable that you won’t lay down any one of the books without saying wistfully, “I almost wish I had them really and truly as friends and not just storybook acquaintances.” That, of course, is a splendid wish; but none of us could afford to have a big menagerie of wild animals, and that’s just what you would have to do if you went outside of the books. Bumper had many friends, such as Mr. Blind Rabbit, Fuzzy Wuzz and Goggle Eyes, his country cousins; and Bobby Gray Squirrel had his near cousins, Stripe the chipmunk and Webb the flying squirrel; while Buster and White Tail were favored with an endless number of friends and relatives. If we turned them all loose from the books, and put them in a ten-acre lot—but no, ten acres wouldn’t be big enough to accommodate them, perhaps not a hundred acres.

So we will leave them just where they are—in the books—and read about them, and let our imaginations take us to them where we can see them playing, skipping, singing, and sometimes fighting, and if we read very carefully, and _think_ as we go along, we may come to know them even better than if we went out hunting for them.

Another thing we should remember. By leaving them in the books, hundreds and thousands of other boys and girls can enjoy them, too, sharing with us the pleasures of the imagination, which after all is one of the greatest things in the world. In gathering them together in a real menagerie, we would be selfish both to Bumper, Bobby, Buster, White Tail and their friends as well as to thousands of other little readers who could not share them with us. So these books of Twilight Animal Stories are dedicated to all little boys and girls who love wild animals. All others are forbidden to read them! They wouldn’t understand them if they did.

So come out into the woods with me, and let us listen and watch, and I promise you it will be worth while.

CONTENTS

STORY PAGE

I White Tail Jumps Stepping Stone Brook 9

II Father Buck’s Failure 17

III Young Black Buck’s Challenge 25

IV Father Buck’s Decision 33

V Young Black Buck’s Challenge to a Race 41

VI Downy the Woodpecker Brings Startling News 49

VII A Race With Puma and Timber 57

VIII Mrs. Puma and Timber Fight 65

IX Young Black Buck Has An Accident 73

X White Tail’s Magnanimous Act 81

XI White Tail’s Adventure in the Camp 89

XII White Tail Escapes 97

XIII White Tail Hears Unpleasant News 105

XIV Choosing a New Leader 113

XV The Great Combat 121

XVI White Tail Made Leader of the Herd 129

WHITE TAIL’S ADVENTURES

STORY I WHITE TAIL JUMPS STEPPING STONE BROOK

White Tail grew rapidly in size and strength, his long, clean limbs showing taut muscles and great springing power; and his neck grew thick and short, which is well for a buck, who must use it in savage thrusts when the head is a battering ram. His horns were short and bony, but they protruded in front like knobs against which it would be unpleasant to fall.

But his antlers were his pride. They spread out fan-shape on his head, crowning it with a glory that made Mother Deer supremely happy. At times it seemed as if the antlers were too heavy for the head and neck, but White Tail carried them easily, and when he shook them in sport or anger any one could see they were just fitted to him.

In time he stood as high as Father Buck, and a head taller than Mother Deer. The day the tip of his antlers reached an inch above Father Buck’s, he felt a little thrill of pride. To be as big and tall as his father had always been his ambition. But while it pleased Father Buck that his son was growing so big, it made him a little sad.

“You will soon be ready to take my place, White Tail,” he said. “You’re growing taller and stronger every day.”

“That may be, Father Buck,” he replied, “but it will be many a season before I can run as fast and far as you, or show the same strength in a fight. Oh, no, there’s little chance of my equaling you for many, many seasons.”

Father Buck merely smiled and nodded his head. “I want you to run out with me to Stepping Stone brook,” he said simply. “There is something I want to show you.”

White Tail was always eager for a run with Father Buck. Nearly every day they went off together to hunt and explore. Father Buck had been teaching him all the ways and tricks of the woods so that his education would be complete.

It was a cool, crisp day, and they ran through the woods, side by side, in long, gentle lopes until they came to Stepping Stone brook. This was a small stream confined between two ledges of rocks, with stones placed in it for stepping across when one didn’t want to wet the feet. Frequently the whole herd crossed it, using the stones so that not a foot touched the water.

When they reached the brook, White Tail immediately took a long drink of the cooling water, for their run had made him hot and thirsty. Father Buck watched him in silence, a very sad expression in his beautiful eyes. There was admiration also, but a little sadness.

“White Tail,” he said suddenly, “I have brought you here to tell you something. Stepping Stone brook has always been the test for our leaders. Here it is that many a youngster has first earned his right to lead the herd, and, alas! many an older leader has broken his heart here.”

White Tail looked up in surprise, and glanced from the speaker to the trickling waters. He was clearly puzzled by the words he had heard.

“No buck can be leader of the herd unless he can jump across Stepping Stone brook, clearing it from bank to bank without faltering or stumbling. If he fails he must wait until he can make the leap. Many, many have tried and failed, and others—”

White Tail’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. He liked to take risks and attempt difficult tasks.

“I see,” he said, laughing joyfully, “you brought me here to see if I could make the leap. Well, I can do it! I’ll show you. I won’t disappoint you, Father Buck.”

“I know you won’t, White Tail,” was the reply. “I shouldn’t have brought you here so soon if I thought you would fail. But I had another purpose, too.”

“What is it?” asked White Tail.

“I will tell you later. Now I want to see you take the leap. Years ago, many, many seasons ago, I came here, and took it. There on the rocks you can see the marks of my leap. It was one of the longest ever made by any of our people. I was naturally proud of it. I shall never forget that day. I think it was the happiest of my life—except one.”

“Which other one?” asked White Tail.

“The day I defeated Black Buck in the final struggle for leadership,” was the reply. “It was a battle that lasted for hours, and all the herd watched us. We were down, and up again and again, struggling, fighting and bucking until it seemed as if both of us would die from exhaustion. But I finally won. I got him down on his knees, and then rolled him over, and stood there until he acknowledged my leadership. That of course was the happiest day of my life.”

White Tail thrilled at this story, and for a moment forgot the thing he was going to do until his father spoke again.

“Now let me see you take the brook in a jump.”

White Tail trotted back on the embankment, but he discovered there was little room for a start. It was almost a standing leap. That was why it was so hard. Across on the other side the embankment shelved down gradually to the shore, with grass and moss covering the bold face of the rock.

“Take your time,” Father Buck cautioned. “Measure the distance well, and do not spring unless you’re sure of yourself. Many a buck that failed the first time never got his courage up to repeat it. It is the first leap that counts.”

Reflecting long and earnestly on his father’s words, White Tail measured the distance with his eyes, and then drew back as far as he could. He gathered his powerful hind legs together, squatted down on them, pawed the rock with his front ones, and stood a moment in trembling anticipation. His nostrils dilated, his eyes flashed. Then with a sudden forward spring he darted toward the edge of the rock, and when he reached it his hind hoofs dug on the rock for a secure purchase. There was a momentary hesitation, as if he had decided not to make the attempt. Then his body shot upward and outward across the brook in the prettiest jump that any deer had ever taken.

He cleared the brook, with its stepping stones, passed the opposite edge, and landed all four hoofs firmly planted on the upper part of the slope. He had made the jump successfully.

Father Buck crossed the stream on the stones, and glanced down at his old mark. A spirit of exultation seized him.

“You have passed my old mark, White Tail, beaten it by a foot,” he said. “You will some day be leader, I know.”

White Tail was as much interested as his father in his triumph. He examined the marks, and then wanted to repeat the jump to see if he could better it.

“No,” cautioned Father Buck, “once is sufficient. The second time may not be so good. You have established your mark. We will scratch it here with our hoofs as a challenge to all others. Let Young Black Buck beat it if he can. Until he does that is your mark.”

White Tail accepted this order, and made no further attempt to jump the brook. If Young Black Buck beats it some day then he would have a chance to try it again, and, if possible, score a longer jump.

“What was your other purpose in bringing me here today?” he asked remembering his father’s words.

“Ah! That is the sad part of it,” sighed Father Buck. “But you must know. I will show you.”

Just what he meant will appear in the next story.

STORY II FATHER BUCK’S FAILURE

Father Buck walked across the brook again, and took his place on the rock from which the jump was made. White Tail immediately concluded he was going to show him how much farther he could jump when he was a young buck.

“I know you will beat me,” White Tail said. “But if you do, won’t you give me another chance?”

“Yes, if such a miracle should happen,” was the reply.

White Tail stood eagerly watching, while his father crouched as he had for the spring. How noble he looked with his big antlered head, with streaks of gray and white hair curling around the roots! White Tail was proud of him.

Suddenly Father Buck rushed forward, hesitated at the brink to get a good purchase with his hoofs, and then up in the air and straight across his body shot. White Tail watched him with gleaming eyes.

Then something happened which startled him. The spring had not been as powerful as he thought, for instead of beating White Tail’s mark, or reaching his own, Father Buck missed the shore by a foot. His hind legs actually splashed in the water.

“What happened?” exclaimed White Tail in amazement. “Did you slip, or—or—”

“No,” replied Father Buck sadly, “it was as I expected. I am getting old, White Tail, and have lost my spring. I have reached the age where I am no longer qualified to lead the herd. If any of the other bucks knew this they would instantly demand a new leader. It’s the law of the herd.”

“But—but—” stammered White Tail. “You could do it again. You didn’t get a good start.”

“No, it wasn’t that, White Tail. It was my age. I can no longer spring across Stepping Stone brook. I am not fit to be leader of the herd.”

Father Buck’s proud head drooped, and something like a tear gleamed in his eyes. It was hard to acknowledge that he was failing, and that in a few seasons he would be looked upon as a useless old buck who would have to take orders from another much younger than he. But it was the law of the herd—and the law of life.

“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed White Tail. “I won’t believe it! I know you can leap across the brook. You must try it again. What I can do you can do!”

Father Buck raised his head and smiled. All the sadness left his eyes, and pride and gratefulness took its place.

“No, White Tail,” he replied. “I cannot do it. I put in that jump all the strength I had—and I failed. But don’t think I’m sad. I’m not. I knew it had to come some day. But I’m glad that my son can take my place. I can be happy yet—and Mother Deer will share it with me—because you have qualified so well to be our leader. I am thankful for that.”

But White Tail was not convinced. It was hard for him to accept the truth. Father Buck was still to him the finest, proudest, wisest and strongest leader he knew, and he wanted him to continue so.

“Some other day when you feel better you will come out here and try the jump again,” he said. “I know you don’t feel well today. Tomorrow you will feel better.”

Father Buck shook his head slowly. “I see you are hard to convince, White Tail. But I will show you in another way. How far is it from here to Puma’s hunting ground?”

“Ten miles or more.”

“Then we will go to it. We will race to it at a good speed. I want you to set the pace—the swiftest you can. You must run as if Puma or Timber Wolf was on your trail. I will follow. You must neither look to the right or to the left, or back of you. Run with all your might.”

“You will follow close behind me?”

“I will follow you.”

Now White Tail looked with glee upon this run, for he was in fine condition. His limbs seemed aching for a long, hard run, and his father wanted to see how quickly he could make the race. He would show him. He wouldn’t disappoint him.

Shortly afterward he started off, taking a broad trail through the woods. He trotted along merrily, and soon began running in long leaps and bounds that carried him far and fast. When he came to obstructions in his path he leaped over them as easily as a boy or girl would jump over a log.

Faster and faster he flew through the woods, his fine head set well back, and his antlers almost resting on his neck. His eyes were kept glued to the trail ahead. He ran so easily and smoothly that it seemed as if he was making no effort. For the first five miles he showed hardly any results of his wild run, but in the last half of the distance he began to perspire a little, and the white foam settled on his flanks.

But he never stopped or turned until he reached the boundary line of Puma’s hunting ground. Then he halted and whirled around.

“How was that?” he asked.

But Father Buck was not there. He was alone. His father was nowhere in sight. Startled and surprised by this he trotted back a few paces and called to him. Then, not finding him, he became frightened. Had something happened to his father?

Perhaps Puma had sprung out of the bushes and killed him, or Timber Wolf had driven him off the trail, and was even now chasing him. White Tail was so alarmed that he retraced his footsteps, calling every little while for Father Buck. It was a dangerous thing to do, for in calling he might attract Puma or Timber Wolf. But his anxiety for his father made him forget all caution.

He found him a long way back on the trail, lying in the bushes, panting with exhaustion. As soon as he discovered him, White Tail ran up to him with a little bleat of joy.

“Oh, I thought something terrible had happened to you!” he exclaimed. “What is it? Did you stumble? You haven’t broken a leg, have you?”

“No, White Tail,” was the panting reply. “Nothing has happened to me. I couldn’t keep up with you. I tried my best. I hung on until I fell down with exhaustion. I have run my last race. I did it to show you that I am growing older and that my powers are weakening. You would not be convinced when I failed to leap the brook. Now you will have to believe.”

Then it dawned upon White Tail that the race to Puma’s hunting ground was simply to show him that his father could no longer keep up with the young bucks of the herd. It was hard for Father Buck thus to show his failing powers, but it was better to do it with his son as the only witness than to fail before all the herd.

“It is my downfall, White Tail,” he added. “But I wanted only you as witness. Now you know. My leadership will soon end, but when the day comes you must be able to take my place. That will be my satisfaction, and your mother’s. She knew that the time was approaching, and she will not be heavy-hearted.”

White Tail was terribly distressed by this news, but after a while a fierce joy came to him. “I shall prove myself worthy of you, Father Buck,” he said. “Yes, I will take your place. I will fight for it now that you and Mother Deer want it. Yes, I will fight for the leadership until the last breath.”

“Those are the words I’ve longed to hear, White Tail. Now I am contented. We will return to the herd. My day’s work is done.”

As they trotted slowly back to the herd, they planned for the future. Both knew that the future race would be between White Tail and Young Black Buck. But of this you will read in the next story.

STORY III YOUNG BLACK BUCK’S CHALLENGE

Young Black Buck had, of course, been in training all this time, for it is the law of the deer that none shall aspire for the leadership of a herd until he has learned all the ways of the woods, and can out-pace and out-jump his father and mother. All the laws of the deer are very strict, for the safety of all depends upon the leader.

Black Buck had taken his son through the woods, as Father Buck had taken White Tail, showing him the dangers and pitfalls, and instructing him how to avoid them and what to do when danger threatened. He had taken him secretly to Stepping Stone brook, and made him jump it; and he had tested his speed and endurance in a race with himself.

Father Buck had no illusions about what Black Buck was doing, and he tried to prepare White Tail to meet Young Black Buck on equal terms. It was like bringing up two boys for a contest in speed, strength, endurance, wisdom and courage. It was a Spartan education, but it was necessary for the good of the herd.

Then one day the clash came for a preliminary trial of skill. The herd had wandered down from the timberland to the open woods below where the new buds of the birches offered succulent food. There was no sign of danger in the air, and the herd grazed peacefully on soft young twigs and opening buds.

When they had wandered to the brink of the canyon that cut through the North Woods below Stepping Stone brook, the leaders paused and started to turn the young does and fawns back. It was dangerous to permit them to eat too close to the edge of the precipice. If one should fall over, the rocks below would crack every bone in its body.

Black Buck suddenly raised his head, and then whispered to his son: “Think you can jump the canyon safely? If so it is a good time to challenge White Tail. We may find out then what he can do. If he balks at it, we will know he is timid or under-trained.”

Young Black Buck walked to the edge, and gazed down it and then across it. It was a dangerous leap, for if he missed by an inch he would fall to the bottom thirty feet below where the hard rocks would crush him. He sniffed the air, and then returned to his father’s side.

“I can do it,” he replied. “I’ve made longer jumps.”

“Yes, but if you should fail you would be killed. Make sure of yourself before you sound the challenge. Go below, where the canyon is not so steep, but just as wide. Practice there alone until you have confidence. If you fail no harm will be done. You can wait another day.”

Young Black Buck separated himself from the herd and made his way to a point half a mile down the canyon. On either side here the rocks were covered with moss and turf, and the edges dropped only a few feet. If he failed the fall would not hurt him.

Unseen by the others, he made the attempt, and cleared the space successfully in the first leap. Then to make sure he tried it again and again, lighting easily on the opposite embankment each time.

Gloating with pride and triumph, he trotted back to Black Buck, and reported. “I never failed once. If the distance here is no greater across I can do it easily.”

“It is no greater, but if anything a few inches less,” replied Black Buck. “If you can do it below, you will do it here. Issue the challenge.”

Young Black Buck trotted away, and, raising his head in the air, a peculiar bellowing noise issued from his throat. It was the buck’s challenge to a contest. Every deer knew its meaning, and raised a head to see who was calling. White Tail, feeding some distance off with Mother Deer and Father Buck, heard it, and instantly turned his head in Young Black Buck’s direction.

“It’s Young Black Buck’s challenge,” whispered Father Buck. “You must accept it. It may be a challenge to a race or fight. Whatever it is you must accept it.”

“I’m ready,” replied White Tail, starting off.

“Who will leap the canyon with me!” bellowed Young Black Buck. “I shall lead where none dare follow! None shall then dispute my claim to leadership. Come those who dare!”

Before White Tail reached the spot, the whole herd was crowding around the challenger. They saw a prospect of a free entertainment, and they bucked and butted each other to get in front. None of the other young bucks had accepted the challenge. One glance at the yawning depth of the canyon had made them withdraw with sickening fear. It looked much deeper than it was, and twice as wide.

White Tail pushed his way through the crowds until he stood before Young Black Buck. The sight of him brought a quick remark from the challenger’s mouth.